Oliver Twist
ings, than in the lonely open fields. He summoned up all
his strength for one last trial, and bent his faltering steps
towards it.
As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling come over him
that he had seen it before. He remembered nothing of its
details; but the shape and aspect of the building seemed fa-
miliar to him.
That garden wall! On the grass inside, he had fallen on
his knees last night, and prayed the two men’s mercy. It was
the very house they had attempted to rob.
Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised
the place, that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his
wound, and thought only of flight. Flight! He could scarcely
stand: and if he were in full possession of all the best powers
of his slight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He
pushed against the garden-gate; it was unlocked, and swung
open on its hinges. He tottered across the lawn; climbed the
steps; knocked faintly at the door; and, his whole strength
failing him, sunk down against one of the pillars of the little
portico.
It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and
the tinker, were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues and
terrors of the night, with tea and sundries, in the kitchen.
Not that it was Mr. Giles’s habit to admit to too great famil-
iarity the humbler servants: towards whom it was rather his
wont to deport himself with a lofty affability, which, while it
gratified, could not fail to remind them of his superior posi-
tion in society. But, death, fires, and burglary, make all men
equals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched out before